


It's written on our arms

by demonhunterknight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonhunterknight/pseuds/demonhunterknight
Summary: Everyone has a soulmate, you just have to find them.





	1. The first introduction.

**Author's Note:**

> I will continue this and edit whenever I can. I need sleep

John Watson stared down at the cursive name that was etched into his wrist on his left hand, he frowned in annoyance, where on earth would he find someone called Sherlock?

He let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge of his bed, first he had to deal with the problem of finding someone who would willingly share a flat with him, and even with the hassle of that he still couldn't get the name out of his head.

Trying to ignore the dull pain that was the start of a headache he examined his room, it was a bland apartment and left the way it was decorated by the previous inhabitants. (He'd never been bothered to repaint it) He'd always told himself he'd be out of here before it got done. So it was kept the way it always was, white washed walls and the same sharp musty smell that he still hadn't gotten used to.

He stared at the curtain for a while, considering letting light into the room, with a shake of his head he stood up and reached for his walking stick, ignoring the pain it caused as he walked to the front door. With a last glance at the room he shut the door behind him and made his way to the park.

'Today's blog. I took a walk in the park. The end.' John thought to himself, that was all he would put on his blog tonight. He continued to walk until he head a voice call his name.

  
"John" he carried on walking.

  
"John Watson" The voice called again, this time he turned around to face the chubby man who had spoke.

"Stamford... Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together" John glanced at him vaguely recalling the man before him.

"Yes, sorry, yes, Mike, hello" He spoke apologetically.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?" Mike asked.

"I got shot" Was what John  replied with.

The two talked for a while, until the discussion of housing came up.

"Come on, who'd want me for a flat share?" John asked incredulously .

"Hehe, you're the second person to say that to me today" Mike replied.

"Second.... Who was the first?"

 ~~~

"How fresh?" The voice asked, barely interested at all, on his wrist the scrawled letters that spelt out John barely visible hidden by his sleeve.

  
"Just in, 67 natural causes, used to work here, I knew him, he was nice." Molly Hooper replied watching the detective before her examine the body that lay on the table. The man sighed in annoyance before looking up.

 

"Fine, we'll start with the riding crop"

 

~~~

 

The door creaked open, and Sherlock glanced up at the intrusion. Mike Stamford  entered followed shortly after by a much shorter man holding a walking stick.

  
"Bit different from my day" Sherlock heard him say as he examined the room. He glanced down at the body before him once more then looked up at Mike.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock said, not really asking but rather demanding as if it was the usual.

"Sorry, it's in my coat" The chubby man replied. Sherlock frowned in annoyance about to comment on the way he lacked a method of basic communication during the day, until a voice spoke.

  
"Here, you can borrow mine"

  
"Oh, thank you" Sherlock said slightly if at all surprised, he took the phone from the man, the scratch marks at the charging port not going unnoticed.

 

 _Drunk man's phone_. The deduction buzzed through his mind.

"This is a friend of mine" Mike said, stating what Sherlock had already earlier deduced. The man next to him swapped the hand he was using to hold his walking stick and held it out in a greeting.

"John Watson" He introduced. Sherlock’s head shot up, he stared at the blonde man before him.

 

_Could it be him?_

 

Possibly. Sherlock looked him up and down, John had noticed his gaze and a faint blush covered his features. Sherlock stared at him as he began to deduce him in his mind.

 

_Haircut and the way he holds himself says military._

_But his conversation says trained at Barts, so army doctor obviously._

_Face is tanned, but not tan above the wrists._

_He’s been abroad but not sunbathing._

_Bad limp when he walks, but doesn’t ask for a chair like he’s forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic...._

 

“Sherlock?” Mikes voice cut through his thoughts. John’s head turned to face Mike then turned to look at Sherlock.

 

“Did you say Sherlock?” He asked his voice wavering slightly.

Now it was Johns turn to stare.

_Sherlock…._

This was him…The man he had pondered about for years, hoping he would find him, almost dreading the day they would meet, the one he was bonded to... Forever. 

John stared at the man and ran a hand through his army cut hair.

"Yes, why?" Mike asked. Sherlock stepped forward.

 

 

"Mike, please leave"

 

 


	2. You're my soulmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock confronts John about the name written on his arm

"Mike, please leave the room"

 

~~~~

Mike cast a quick glance at both men, tilting his head in confusion.

 

"Why?" He asked curiously. The fact he ignored Sherlock's command caused the brunette the frozen in annoyance.

"Just leave already!" He demanded impatiently. Mike froze and slowly retreated out of the room arms raised in defence. Sherlock eyes followed him making sure that he had closed the door then his gaze came to rest on the army doctor.

"Your name is John correct?" He asked a slight quiver in his voice. He was taken aback by his own anxiety and gazed at the man waiting for a response.

"Yes. Yes it is, and you are Sherlock Holmes?" John replied the same nervousness obvious in his voice. Sherlock nodded and took a slight step forwards.

 "It would appear your name is written on my arm" he stated calmly unsure how to deal with the situation or with whatever John's response would be. He had never anticipated this to happen. For 15 years he had waited, hoped, prayed that John would come along and drag him away from his dismal life and eventually he had given up, believing the other had given up or was possibly dead.

What he had not expected.

Was for it to happen in a morgue. But in a way his life was like that.

 

Full of surprises.

 

A cough shook Sherlock from his thoughts, his eyes flickered back up to John who was now closer than before. He took a step back as he saw John's hand reach out and take his wrist.

"Let me see" he said.

Reluctantly Sherlock pulled up the cuffs of his sleeves so John could see his name written in his usual cursive scrawl. A nod of the head confirmed what Sherlock thought and he watched as John pulled back his own sleeves to reveal his own name in his handwriting etched into his wrist.

"It appears so" the blonde stated obviously. Sherlock looked the man up and down. He had always known he was never interested in women. It wasn't his area. He had always known that he would be paired with a male. There was nothing different about it to a male/female relationship and Lestrade himself had even been paired with another male. 

Sifting through his thoughts Sherlock decided whether it would be good to mention the apartment at this time. 

They were soulmates and in theory they should live together. Right?

Not to mention the tension in the room was steadily growing and Sherlock needed a conversation starter.

 

"221B Baker Street" He said swiftly.

 

"What?" John stared at him, confused by the mans outburst. 

 

"The address.... For the apartment. Its 221B Baker Street" Normally Sherlock hated repeating himself to anyone... But John wasn't anyone. And with those final words he exited the room. Leaving John staring blankly in confusion at the spot he was standing in.


End file.
